


Caged Minds

by tanwenmc



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Brainwashing, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/F, F/M, Kidnapping, Maledom, Maledom/Femsub, Mind Control, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-07 01:22:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8777488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanwenmc/pseuds/tanwenmc
Summary: A rumor of darkspawn turns out to have been a trap designed especially for Mahariel. Now, the dangers that she, Leliana, and Morrigan face are not those that can be defeated with bow, blade, or magic.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on the Dragon Age Kink Meme.

" ‘Tis a fool’s errand, in my opinion,” Morrigan commented to Leliana and Viera Mahariel acidly as the three of them picked their way through dense foliage. Mahariel was in the lead, with Morrigan after her and Leliana bringing up the rear. All three were alternating between clearing their surroundings and keeping an eye out for trouble.  
  
“If there’s darkspawn around, we have to do something about them.” Mahariel turned around briefly to look at Morrigan. “And yes, I know it’s only a rumor, which is why everyone else is back at camp in case it’s some kind of ambush.” She flashed a grin. “Hopefully, all that happens is that we get a few days of quiet girl time.”  
  
“That sounds lovely,” Leliana sighed.  
  
“Oh, goody. What shall we do first? Braid each others’ hair?” Morrigan asked, her usual cutting wit fully on display.   
  
“Mine’s already braided.” Mahariel had long since found that the best way to respond to Morrigan was with a similar type of wit. She heard Leliana giggle softly while Morrigan huffed out an exasperated sigh. “We’ll have to find something else to occupy our time.”  
  
“Admit it, Morrigan, you will enjoy a few days without worrying about Alistair’s cooking,” Leliana teased.  
  
“Ah, but we must return to it eventually,” Morrigan countered. “If I never had to eat it again, that would be cause for celebration.”  
  
Mahariel hacked another branch out of the way and saw a clearing ahead. Good. A break from hacking. “I’ll give you that one. I thought he’d improve with time. I guess I was overly optimistic.”  
  
“Let us hope,” Morrigan said, “that your estimate of our task at Orzammar is not also overly optimistic.”  
  
“We’ll see in a few weeks.” Mahariel scanned the clearing. Mostly open grass, with plenty of unruly branches hanging from the trees at the edges. A handful of stone pieces stuck up from the ground, covered in varying layers of moss. She waited, listening, then waived the other two forward. She hadn’t seen any immediate threats, but that didn’t mean she was about to let her guard down.  
  
“I am seeing a suspicious lack of darkspawn, here.” Morrigan, naturally.  
  
Mahariel groaned. “Didn’t we just get through discussing how that isn’t such a bad thing?”  
  
“Wait.” Leliana’s voice is barely above a whisper. “There. To the left.”  
  
Mahariel turned her head, slowly, trying to find what Leliana had seen. She spotted some figures lurking in the trees. At least seven. Best to assume more.   
  
“Ambush.” Mahariel heard the smile in Morrigan’s voice without needing to look. “Shall we turn the tables on them?”   
  
It was amazing, to think of how all of their combat skills had improved in the months they’d been traveling together. Mahariel was already thinking about how to set up the counter-ambush.  
  
Leliana fingered the arrow she held knocked. “We need to convince them that we haven’t seen them, or we will lose the element of surprise.”  
  
Mahariel nodded and moved forward, trying to project a relaxed and carefree air. She was aware of how many people still underestimated her — still saw her as only an uncivilized, ignorant Dalish hunter instead of the Warden that was trying to save their sorry asses.  
  
“Can we get a more accurate count of our watchers?” she asked, turning to face Morrigan, smiling as though they were just three friends out for a stroll. It was a bit absurd, really, since they were all armed.   
  
Hopefully, whoever was in the trees across the clearing would buy their little charade.  
  
“I count eight,” Leliana said, tossing her head as though she were removing a strand of hair from her face.  
  
“As do I.” Morrigan’s grip tightened on her staff, although Mahariel doubted that the motion could be seen from a distance.  
  
“If you can get a glimpse of one of them, hit him with some Horror,” Mahariel said. “Then cast the biggest spell you can. Leliana, I’ll need some covering fire. Got any of those fire arrows left?”  
  
“A handful,” Leliana replied. “Not enough to cover you the whole way, I think.”  
  
“It’ll do.” Mahariel took another step forward. “When I start running, you two go. Ready?”  
  
Leliana pulled the string that would light her arrow on fire in just a few seconds’ time. “Ready.”  
  
“I will note that healing is not among my skills,” Morrigan said.

“Noted.” Mahariel broke into a run. Her world narrowed to the grassy area in front of her. The ground was too uneven, and if she lost her footing, their chances of turning the tables diminished dramatically.

She heard a scream ahead of her, and an arrow streaking through the air nearby. Leliana was a very good archer; she’d probably aimed as close to Mahariel as she could without actually putting her friend in danger.

Mahariel dove to the ground as one of the ambushers ran towards her. Her armor protected her from most of the pain, but it was still fairly uncomfortable. She sliced upwards and hit the leg of the ambusher who’d tried to rush her. Not her best effort, but enough to get him to stumble — giving her time to get to her feet.

She aimed a kick at her would-be attacker, ensuring he would stay on the ground, helpless, long enough for her to finish him off. The scream that she’d heard earlier — presumably, induced by Morrigan’s spell of Horror — was somewhere off to her right.

Mahariel went left.

Ahead of her, one of the ambushers seemed not to have gotten the message that things were going off the rails. He was still looking forward, his bow knocked, focused on the illusion that Morrigan had created out in the open.

Moving silently, she came up right behind the unfortunate warrior and ran him through the heart. He fell to the ground.

That was two she’d accounted for. Morrigan had taken care of at least one with her Horror, and she heard and saw Leliana’s arrows keeping the other five busy. Sooner or later, they’d figure out that there was someone behind their lines. Plus, Morrigan still hadn’t unleashed whatever big spell she had ready.

Mahariel abandoned stealth for speed, not caring how many branches she broke while she ran towards another of the ambushers. As expected, the five remaining fighters saw her.

She grinned and twirled her blades, running forward to engage them. One of them fell to the ground with an arrow in his chest before she’d gotten more than ten steps from her starting position. Four to go.

Mahariel parried a strike from the fastest of the fighters. Then she had to do it again. He was pretty good, she had to admit; almost as fast as she was. She had to trust that Leliana and Morrigan would cut down some of the other ones before they could make trouble for her.

More screams. More thumps. She danced out of the way of a second fighter who came up on her left. That was going to be trouble in a few more minutes. Mahariel started to feel fear for the first time in this whole fight. She realized that she had been backing up, on the defensive.

Then the air started to crackle, and both of the men in front of her screamed in pain before falling to the ground.

“All clear?” she asked, doing her best to keep the fear out of her voice.

“Clear,” Leliana confirmed.

Mahariel still didn’t relax until she saw both of them walking up, unharmed. Then, she grinned, sheathing her swords and holding her hands up in triumph. “Are we good, or are we good?”

Morrigan sighed. “Such displays are unseemly. Suppose there were more enemies waiting further out?”

“Then they’d be rushing us right now in our moment of weakness,” Mahariel said. Still, she did take a glance around, examining the edges of the clearing, before she turned her back on the area where the ambushers had been waiting for them. She deliberately kept the smile on her face. One of the things that she’d learned about leadership, since becoming a Warden. Always show confidence, even if you don’t have it.

Unless you want your followers to doubt you, and Mahariel needed Leliana and Morrigan to believe in her. Not just because she needed their help to defeat the Blight, but because they’d become friends. Leliana had admitted as much, even if Morrigan hadn’t — and probably never would.

Mahariel smiled to herself as she started the preparations to set up camp. She volunteered for third watch and settled down to get some sleep.

* * *

When she woke, it was with a splitting headache. She groped for her blades at her back.

At least, she tried to. Her hands, she discovered, were bound firmly behind her back. And she was kneeling on a cold floor.

_I guess Morrigan was right after all._

Mahariel opened her eyes to take stock of her situation.

The room she was in was made of gleaming white marble — the same type of marble that she’d seen outside, but in much better condition, here. Mahariel twisted her head to the side and saw Leliana and Morrigan, kneeling in what looked to be identical positions to hers, hands bound behind their back. The three of them were in a straight line — Mahariel on the left, Morrigan in the middle, and Leliana on the right.

Mahariel’s eyes went wide as she saw the clothing that their unknown assailant had dressed the other two in. The top they were both wearing was barely deserving of the name, looking more like a long piece of fabric wrapped loosely around neck and breasts. The material was extremely flimsy, basically see-through.

The clothing that covered their legs — it didn’t deserve to be called a skirt — was made of the same gauzy fabric. It might have been opaque at a distance, but close up, it left little to the imagination. The only thing that was actually, properly covered was the crotch area, and Mahariel cynically thought that might be for hygienic reasons more than anything else. She wriggled her hips and felt the softness of her underclothes. Luxurious. Sensual, even, and she hated how easily that word had come to her mind.

Leliana’s outfit was orange, a few shades lighter than her hair — complementing it, making a contrast between the paleness of her skin and her shining red hair. She looked like a vivid sunrise. Beautiful. Mahariel cursed herself for the  _abhorrent_  timing of that thought.

Next to her, Morrigan was clad in an identical outfit of a rich midnight blue — again, a few shades lighter than her own hair. It added to the overall air of dark mystery that she took such pains to project.

Finally, Mahariel looked down at herself and saw that her own outfit was a deep emerald green color. The richness of the color put her in mind of some of the plants in the deepest parts of the Arbor Wilds, where her clan had been when she was a child.

Both Leliana and Morrigan were still out, under the influence of whatever it was that had rendered them all unconscious and allowed them to be brought here. Mahariel tried her bonds again, even looking over her shoulder to see what was holding her hands together.

The answer was… nothing.

Which meant magic.

 _Wake up, Morrigan,_  Mahariel thought. She wished she dared say something, even in a low whisper, but they were kept too far apart. She suspected that was deliberate. And shouting would only bring the attention of whoever was responsible for their current situation. So. She had no choice but to wait.

She felt like she had memorized every detail of the intricate molding on the walls by the time that the bobbing of Morrigan’s head caught her attention. Mahariel whipped her head around and gazed at her companion. Morrigan’s eyes went wide when she saw what Mahariel was wearing, and then looked down at herself. The mage muttered darkly under her breath as she moved her shoulders.

Nothing happened.

Morrigan growled and spoke again, presumably the same words. Then a third time, loud enough for Mahariel to catch some of the words. Still nothing.

While Morrigan continued to grumble and try additional spells, Leliana finally came back to herself, shaking her head and doing the same visual inspection that Mahariel had done. Coming to the same conclusions, apparently; she settled back on her heels and looked at the ceiling. Praying for help, maybe. Mahariel wished her luck.

To her left, something made a loud creaking sound. Mahariel turned her head in the direction of the sound and noted the others doing the same.

There were two large doors, there that seemed to have been carved directly from the walls. The same intricate patterns that ran along the top of the walls and columns were spread across the length and width of the door as well. Mahariel thought she saw some Dalish patterns in there, but she’d have needed more time to study the scene.

Instead, she focused herself to pay attention to the man who walked through the now-open doors.

He was Dalish; tall, at least a head taller than herself — and Mahariel had been of a height with the majority of the men in her clan. He had black hair, shaved on the sides and hanging down his back in a long braid. The lines on his face — underneath his high cheekbones and above his pointed nose — seemed to contradict the richness of his hair color. Mahariel decided to estimate his age based on the face, judging him to be about fifty. A very attractive fifty, she admitted, somewhat unwillingly.

The vallaslin he wore was one of the more elaborate designs Mahariel had ever seen: a symmetrical design, half of his face dark-on-light and the other light-on-dark. The two halves were connected by curving, thorny vines. It was in Elgar'nan’s honor, as her own vallaslin was for Ghilain'nain.

He wore loose and flowing robes that swirled as he walked towards them. They were white, an impossibly pure and bright color. As he came closer, Mahariel saw that the robes were covered in thick embroidery, the patterns matching his vallaslin.

The Dalish man regarded them for a long moment before turning his back on them and walking towards the elegantly carved throne that, somehow, Mahariel hadn’t noticed until that moment.

With the confidence and sense of the dramatic that he’d just displayed, he had to be the one behind their current captivity. Mahariel watched him carefully. If she learned his weaknesses, she’d have a better chance of finding a way to escape.

“Welcome to your new home,” he said. His voice was deep, and rich, and it sent a shiver up her spine. “My name is Rolen. I am delighted that you could join me.”

“You did not give us any choice in the matter,” Morrigan spat angrily.

“True. If there were another way I could have accomplished this, I would have,” Rolen said. “Alas, your heads have been filled with lies and false platitudes, and you would never have come willingly. I hope that, in time, you will see how wrong those around you have been, and that I only ever had your best interests at heart.”

“Our best interests!” Morrigan’s laugh was on the edge of hysteria. “Being kidnapped, placed into these  _ridiculous_  outfits, bound hand and foot and left to kneel in front of you like — like —”

“Obedient servants?” Rolen finished for her. There was something in his smile that made Mahariel very uneasy. Confidence that he knew something they did not.

Morrigan glared daggers at him. “What are these lies and false platitudes that we have been sold?” Leliana asked, much calmer than Morrigan. Mahariel was content to her friends do the talking; it gave her a chance to keep observing Rolen.

“That you are in a fight you can win,” Rolen replied, still utterly calm and composed. “This Blight is too much for anyone, even strong fighters such as yourself, to hope to push back. Ferelden is in disarray. You have done well to gain the allies that you have. I know you intended to travel to Orzammar next.” He shook his head sadly. “Even they would not be enough to save you.”

“You are clearly a mage of great power,” Leliana said, “to have done all of this. But I have never heard of a mage who can successfully see into the future.”

Rolen laughed, the sound echoing softly in the large, mostly empty room. “I never claimed to be able to see the future. I have lived for much longer than my appearance suggests. That experience allows me to see patterns that all others will, inevitably, miss.”

Arrogant, confident, and a strong mage. Mahariel tried not to think that they were in trouble. There would be a way out. There was  _always_  some kind of way out.

“So you claim that we will inevitably fail,” Morrigan said, apparently having gotten over her fit of anger. “You are so confident in this that you have gone to such extraordinary measures to bring us here. And again I must ask —  _why these outfits?_ ”

Rolen smiled. “A man likes to look upon women who are dressed in a fashion pleasing to his eye.”

“Oh, I knew it.” Morrigan was seething now. Mahariel restrained herself from making a comment about how she wasn’t showing  _that_  much more skin than she usually did.

“This is all for  _you_ ,” Morrigan continued, her anger building even hotter. “You bring us here, put us in these ridiculous outfits, and try to sell us some story about it being  _for our own good_  — when it is, in truth, entirely to feed your own desires and ego. You feel proud of yourself for having captured us and you wish to parade us around like trophies.”

“Correct, and wrong,” Rolen replied. He stood and walked over to Morrigan. She continued to glare at him in defiance as he laid a hand against her cheek. Mahariel idly wondered why Morrigan wasn’t spitting in his face. Perhaps it was something in the magic that he was using?

“I do feel proud for having captured you. I saw how well you acquitted yourselves against the mercenaries I hired,” he said, releasing Morrigan’s cheek and walking over to stand in front of Leliana. He smiled again, bending down and twining his fingers around the small braid that Leliana always wore.

“But I have no desire to parade you around. Yet.” Leaving Leliana behind, he made his way over to Mahariel. She looked up at him, noting every detail about him that she could. The lines on his face. The shape of his hairline. The color of his eyes — as gray as storm clouds.

Perhaps it was just because she was intently paying attention, but the touch he laid upon her face was gentler than the others. More tender than possessive. She filed that bit of information away for later.

“That will come later. After the Blight has passed.” He leaned in closer, and Mahariel saw that he was wearing some kind of chain or pendant under his robes. It looked like it was silver, but that was all the detail that she got before he pulled away. Straightening, he turned his back on them and went back to his throne.

“And after you’ve had sufficient time to have a change of mind about your situation.”

Ah. Mahariel had been waiting for that. She knew there had to be  _something_  he was planning to do that would make them play along with his little game.

“I suppose this is when you tell us how that’s going to happen,” she said. Now was as good a time as any to break her silence.

“Ah! She speaks!” Rolen leaned forward, his gaze as intent as hers had been a few moments before. “I should think that you would be most grateful, Viera Mahariel. They expect you to die, you know. Ending the Blight, ideally. If not, they’ll find a way to dispose of you afterwards. Can’t have a Dalish being held up as a hero. That would undermine their vision of us as ignorant and uncivilized.”

His words were an unpleasant echo of some of her own thoughts, when she was feeling particularly uncharitable towards some of the people she was  _trying_  to help. She did her best to control her expression. She couldn’t let him see any hint of agreement or sympathy.

“I do hate to disappoint you, but I don’t intend to tell you what’ll happen,” Rolen continued. “You’ll simply have to wait and see what it is, when it is your turn.”

“My turn,” Mahariel repeated. “And when will that be?”

“After both your lovely friends have convinced me of their devotion.” Rolen lifted his hand and snapped his fingers, almost idly.

Mahariel felt her stomach clenching as a row of …  _beings_  … walked through the door. They had probably been human, once. Perhaps some of them had been elves. It was impossible to tell, with their skin hanging loosely on their bones, their ears distorted and their eyes unnaturally wide. They walked forward in perfect synchronicity, four of them stopping in front of Mahariel, and four in front of Morrigan.

Mahariel was grabbed by both arms and hauled to her feet. “You have nothing to fear from my servants,” Rolen said. He was trying to sound reassuring, Mahariel was sure, but she wasn’t buying it. “They are merely here to conduct you to your room. I’m sure you’ll find it quite comfortable.” He smiled. It was a fond smile, loving and tender. He either truly believed what he was saying or he was a very, very, good liar.

She wasn’t sure which was the better option.

Mahariel cast an anxious glance at Leliana, wishing she could do something - anything - other than allow herself to be led away.


	2. Chapter 2

Leliana kept her face calm as she watched Mahariel and Morrigan getting ushered out by the mage — Rolen's — _rather_ unsettling servants. She knew that many looked at her and saw only a pretty face, heard only her Orlesian accent.

But she was not just Orlesian, she was an Orlesian _bard_ , and that gave her a set of skills that most did not expect her to have.

This man knew something about them, obviously. If he knew she was a bard, he would be prepared for it. And if he did not, that was something that she might be able to use against him.

"Perhaps it is that you just wanted to get me alone, no?" Leliana asked, deliberately playing up the accent, choosing the sentence structure that sounded the most Orlesian. "You know I have a weakness for older men." 

That was a lie — her weakness was for older women, as evidenced by her relationship with Marjolaine, but she wanted to see how he would respond.

Rolen made an elaborate gesture with his hand, and the marble doors that Morrigan and Mahariel had exited through swung shut. Then he stood from his throne and came over to her. He touched her wrists, and she felt something warm pulse through her body.

"It is true that I wished to get you alone," he murmured in her ear before he straightened. "Come. Your friends are being made more comfortable. I can hardly deny you the same courtesy."

Leliana followed him back to the throne. She swayed her hips and allowed her breasts to bounce up and down. He sat down and pulled her onto his lap in a smooth gesture, and she gave what she hoped was a sufficiently girlish giggle.

"You are not concerned with the lack of freedom?" Rolen asked, putting an arm around her back as her legs draped over one side of the throne.

Leliana giggled again. "What is freedom, but being able to do what you want?" she asked. "And … ooh … I _very_ much want to be here, right now."

"Such a charming young woman," Rolan murmured, reaching his free hand up up to play with her hair as he had before. Leliana moved closer to him. 

She wasn't actually sure which one of them technically initiated the kiss, but it didn't matter. 

The danger of playing the Game in this manner was that it was easy to get sucked under by the responses of one's body. Leliana was walking a fine line between giving the interest of appearance and enjoyment, and keeping herself alert to everything that Rolen was doing. 

The hand that had been holding her in place started to roam across her bare back, the light touch causing a shiver to run up her spine. She gave what she hoped was an encouraging moan. 

Rolen slid his tongue inside her mouth where it met hers, dancing lightly around her mouth. The fine line that she was walking became even finer. Leliana had been trained to use seduction as a tool. Surely she wasn't _so_ out of practice that she was letting this man overcome her, as though the naive Orlesian facade was in fact the truth.

Leliana broke the kiss so that she could adjust herself. The throne was rather wide, with more than enough room for her to straddle him and still be comfortable. Leliana smiled as she placed her hands on his chest, feeling the tight muscles underneath his loose robes. 

"Don't fall, now," Rolen murmured softly. "I couldn't stand it if you hurt that pretty little head of yours."

"I assure you, I am quite good at keeping my balance," Leliana said, giving him another empty giggle.

"That," Rolen replied, his hands easily sliding under the fabric that was a poor excuse for a shirt, "is very good news."

His grasp on her breasts was firm, insisting, and Leliana forgot herself and yielded to the pleasure his touch brought to her. The moan she gave was long, and genuine. She realized her error a few moments later and tried desperately to regain her clearheadedness.

Rolen's breath was hot on the side of her neck, his lips resting a hair's width away from her ear. "Those are some delightful sounds you are making, lovely Leliana. Wouldn't you like to see what effect they are having on me?"

Her hands moved downwards, finding the top of his trousers and sliding them off him. Leliana let out a gasp when she saw his erection, felt it pressing into her inner thigh. It was … such a cliche … that was bad, for some reason. She didn't know why.

Rolen slid her panties down until she was able to kick them out of the way, then guided her hips until she was positioned over his erection. Leliana didn't protest. Didn't try to stall, to get him as aroused as herself, to take back the advantage that had somehow slipped away from her. Everything that she was feeling — her senses, her reactions — was somehow dulled.

Except her arousal.

Except her need to have his thick cock inside her. 

His hands tightened on her hips. She slid downwards.

Leliana's head tilted back and she moaned in pure abandon. His cock _filled_ her, sending shivers of delight through her, encouraging her to press herself downward, increase the contact. She grasped the arms of his throne tightly to give herself additional leverage. She wanted more. _Needed_ more. 

Rolen's hands stayed firmly on her hips, still guiding her, moving her up and down. On one of the down-strokes the tip of his cock found her clit.

Her breathing hitched. She felt her climax hit her, unexpectedly hard; she'd been unaware of just _how_ close he'd brought her in such a short period of time.

If she'd been coherent enough to care, that would have been yet another point of concern.

Since she wasn't, it was a point of sheer delight.

Leliana gave herself over to pure physical movement, the little erratic movements that came from seeking every last bit of pleasure from a joining. His hands kept her firmly in place, kept her moving back and forth. She felt his seed filling her up, a physical warmth to add to the feeling of utter satisfaction she was feeling in these last few moments of her climax.

Rolen kissed the side of her neck, murmuring soft endearments that barely registered with her in this pleasant haze. His arms closed around her back and he lifted her up, carrying her to the back of the throne room and a door she hadn't noticed before.

The door was made of the same marble as the rest of the room and seemed to just disappear as he walked towards it. Then they were in a bedroom, lavishly furnished, a broad four-poster bed at the center. Rolen laid her down on the bed and straddled her, his weight pinning her to the bed. He reached one hand underneath his robe and pulled out a pendant — a silver chain, with a pale blue jewel hanging from the center.

Rolen undid the clasp on the pendant and held it over Leliana's head, then let it go. The blue jewel hovered just above her head, glowing softly from within. The sight naturally drew her eye, and once she'd glanced at it she found it hard to look away. It was relaxing, taking the usual post-coital contentment and somehow seeming to amplify it.

"Look at the light," Rolen told her. "Let it fill you. Let it take your thoughts away."

Leliana felt her eyes opening wider, her lips parting to let out a soft exhalation. Her gaze was now firmly locked onto the stone. When she breathed in, the light grew brighter; when she breathed out, it dimmed slightly. Fascinating.

"The light empties your mind," Rolen said. His tone was soft, coaxing, his body still warm against hers. His hands rested on her stomach, fingertips moving gently across her skin. "Makes you feel good. Opens your mind to me. To my words. It feels good to listen to my words."

Leliana let out a soft sigh. The light was so compelling. She wanted to keep looking at it. It was making her feel good. She had to keep looking.

"You want to listen to me."

Rolen had a nice voice. She liked listening to him. She felt like he could have said anything and she would have enjoyed listening to him.

"My words bring you pleasure. My voice brings you pleasure."

Leliana's body was completely limp, completely relaxed. Her awareness had shrunk to the light that was still hovering over her head, the feel of Rolen's body against hers, the sound of his voice, his words that were making her feel good, so good, so…

"And now your mind is open to me, completely open, and my words become your thoughts."

Fingertips gently touching, exploring her skin, sending pleasant tingles throughout her body, keeping her body relaxed and content. Leliana sighed again.

"My words are your thoughts."

"Yes," Leliana murmured. She felt like she needed to say that. To affirm it. As she did, she felt another shiver run through her. 

"Very good," Rolen purred. His hands came up to caress her breasts. In her current state, she registered it as a soft increase of her general contentment. "My words are your thoughts. I control your thoughts."

Her mind was empty. Rolen had made sure of that. There was nothing there but his words. She heard them, and they flowed into her, and they became her thoughts.

"I control your thoughts."

Rolen put more pressure on her breasts, adding more physical pleasure to the internal warmth that his words and the light were creating. "I," he said, his voice growing deeper and richer, "control your thoughts."

"You control my thoughts." The words spilled out from her mouth without any conscious decision on her part. 

"Good." Rolen leaned in and kissed the side of her neck. "Very, very good, Leliana. How are you feeling?"

"Warm. Good." Leliana smiled weakly.

Rolen kissed her neck again, lower than he had before. "I control your thoughts. I control you."

Leliana was lost in the blue light, in her increasing arousal. She could tell that he wanted her to repeat the words. She knew that her repetition was doing … something. Increasing that inner warmth she felt when he told her what to think.

"Control…" she breathed. 

"I control your desire." Rolen moved up, nibbling gently at her earlobe. "I control your thoughts."

Leliana moaned, her back arching up against Rolen's body. His hands slid down to her hips, then her stomach, teasing at the area that had suddenly become more sensitive. "I know this is making you feel good, lovely Leliana," he purred. " _I'm_ making you feel good. I control your desire. Your thoughts."

"Yes. Yes." Her hands gripped the sheets beneath her. 

"You want more of this?"

She moaned again, tried to make her mouth say something that would make her feelings clear.

"I control _you_."

"You control me." 

As they had before, the words slipped out without her deciding to say them. They had been automatic, like some kind of … instinctive reflex.

"Oh, that is very, very good," Rolen said. His hands dipped lower, fingertips resting lightly on her skin, sending a delighted shiver through her. "So pleasing. Say it again for me, Leliana."

Leliana felt herself heating up, her vision constricting even further. The blue light was the only thing she could see. His voice was the only thing she could hear.

Her desire was the only thing she could feel.

"You control me." Her voice was stronger, more confident. She felt the truth of the words as soon as she spoke them. 

" _Yes,_ Leliana." Rolen slid himself down a few inches, giving him access to her most sensitive area. She let out an excited mew, already starting to anticipate what more he was going to do. "Feel the words sinking into your mind. It excites to you to be under my control."

Leliana whimpered again, agreeing with his words.

His fingers slid inside her. "The more aroused you become, the more open your mind becomes…the easier it becomes for you to accept my words as truth."

She pressed herself against him, hips lifting off the bed. He was very good with his fingers, quickly finding the spots that made her moan and whimper. 

"You are always this open to me, when you are aroused."

He was bringing her to the brink, and she welcomed it, welcomed the chance to completely lose herself in how wonderful she was feeling …

"I control your desire."

"You — you control me," Leliana panted. 

Rolen moaned. It took her a second to realize that it wasn't _her_ moan, because it sounded as aroused and needy as one she might have made. "And it makes you feel good, so good, to know how deeply controlled you are…"

She whined loudly, trying to persuade him without words to give her the release that her body was demanding.

"How much you _want_ me to fill your mind with my thoughts…"

"Please," she managed to beg, somehow finding it within her to form that single word. "Please, _please_."

His other hand roamed up and down her legs, caressing, adding to her pleasure. "One more time for me, lovely Leliana, one more time, and you'll have what you _need._ Say it for me."

She would have done anything for him, in that instant.

"You control me."

"You're going to climax for me in a moment," Rolen said, his voice sounding ragged and uneven. "And when you do, you'll hear those words repeating over and over inside your mind. You will feel the truth of them. You will know it is inescapable." He paused. "And it will make you feel better than you ever have before, better than you could have ever imagined.

" _Now,_ Leliana."

A mere day ago, Leliana wouldn't have believed it was possible to orgasm on command. Now, she knew it to be a truth as deep as the other one that was burning itself into her mind. _Rolen controls me. Rolen controls me._

The thoughts kept her body moving, her mouth moaning, as much as the physical sensation of Rolen's fingers inside her. She fucked his hand as hard as she'd ever fucked anything in her life, her body moving to a mindless rhythm. The words repeating inside her head set the cadence. _Rolen controls me. Rolen controls me. It feels good. It feels so good._

Eventually — and she couldn't have said exactly how long it was that her climax lasted — Leliana fell back against the sheets, sweating, panting, completely spent. Her eyes closed to allow her to better bask in the warm afterglow. She felt Rolen's fingers withdrawing from inside her, his other hand coming up to brush against her hair. "Your mind is still open," he murmured softly. 

Leliana hummed contentedly, smiling in his general direction. Opening her eyes felt like too much effort.

"Ready to receive my words."

"Your words are my thoughts," Leliana replied.

"Oh, lovely Leliana." Rolen kissed her passionately, his tongue sliding inside her mouth. She returned the kiss with as much enthusiasm as she could muster in her current drained state.

He broke the kiss and resumed stroking her hair. "You've done so well. Your little game of trying to play me was an amusing one. It shows there is more to you than just a pretty face and a keen eye. That's good, Leliana. That is very, very good."

She felt a burst of happiness inside her, bubbling up somewhat unexpectedly. She didn't understand why, but that didn't matter.

"Now." He flicked his wrist, and the stone was back, hanging over her head. Her eyes were drawn to the soft blue light, and she let out a happy sigh. 

"The light draws out your resistance," Rolen said. "The light washes away the parts of you that are not mine. As your resistance vanishes, your pleasure increases." 

Leliana wouldn't have thought that there _was_ any resistance. And maybe there wasn't; maybe the light was pleasing in and of itself, filling her body with a comforting warmth. 

And once again, that didn't matter in the least. 

"Now your resistance is gone, and you are mine utterly." The light grew brighter, stronger, until it completely filled her vision. It drove everything else away from her awareness. 

There was only the light.

There was only his voice.

"I am your Master. You will obey."

The light gave her a vision that unfolded in her mind as though it were a particularly vivid memory. Leliana saw herself kneeling before him in his throne room, an adoring smile on her face as she gazed up at him. Mahariel and Morrigan walked in, their hands unbound, their faces as bright and eager as hers. She rose from her kneeling position and went to greet her friends — kissing first Morrigan, and then Mahariel, her hands roaming freely across her friends' bodies. The other two made happy moaning sounds. She knew that in a few more minutes all three of them would be collapsed on the floor, losing themselves in mindless pleasure —

As their Master watched.

"You are my Master. I will obey." Leliana seemed to hear her own voice from a distance. It was a curiously flat voice, empty of all emotion, all tone. Monotonous.

Obedient.

"You are my slave."

"I am your slave." She felt a little thrill at that, at putting it in such a simple, yet definitive, statement. Acknowledging the power that he had over her.

"Your only purpose is to serve me. Your only desire, to please me."

"My only purpose is to serve you. My only desire, to please you."

"Again, Leliana. From the beginning."

The light still filled her vision, still radiating the warmth that seemed to bypass her skin and go straight to her core. Filling her with pleasure.

"You are my Master. I will obey. I am your slave. My only purpose is to serve you. My only desire, to please you." With each phrase that slipped out of her mouth, the warmth from the light spread, until it was everywhere. Holding her in a state of complete openness, complete bliss.

"Good. Good." Rolen ran his hands over her legs, lingering on her thighs, still sticky with her juices. "One more time for me, lovely one."

Leliana closed her eyes and basked in the warmth of his pleasure and the light inside of her. "You are my Master," she said happily. "I will obey. I am your slave. My only purpose is to serve you. My only desire, to please you."

"Pay close attention to my words, now, Leliana."

"Yes, Master." Eagerness filled her voice as she squirmed under his touch.

"I am going to give you a phrase. When you hear me say that phrase, you will instantly become helplessly aroused. Horny and desperate for release." His hard shaft nudged at her entrance. She whimpered softly, already beginning to feel some of what he was describing. "No matter where you are or what you are doing, the phrase will have that effect on you." She felt his hands running up her sides, fingertips gently tracing the outline of her form. "That includes right now."

"Yes, Master." 

" _Ha'mi'lin. Juveran na su tarasyl._ "

Leliana had thought that the light inside her was warm. It had been nothing compared to the raging inferno that sprung up when Rolen — when _Master_ — spoke those words. She cried out, feeling desperate, completely overcome with desire. "Master," she whimpered. "I need you inside me. _Please._ "

"Are you truly so eager, my slave?" her Master asked, agonizingly close to entering her. She wished he would cross that final barrier. She knew that he was aroused, and that fact was contributing to the intense desire running through her body. The fact that she had pleased him, as he had told her she must.

"I am, yes, please, I need you," Leliana babbled. Her hands came up to stroke his skin, enjoying how smooth it felt beneath her fingertips. She wanted to feel him pressed against her. She wanted to feel every inch of him covering every inch of her. 

Master leaned in and kissed her neck. "I suppose there's only one way to find out." 

When he slid inside her, Leliana grasped at his shoulders, pulling him close and beginning to move against him at a frenzied pace. She had come near to climaxing with just that entrance, with the joy of feeling his thick shaft pressing against her oh-so-sensitive areas. Her forehead came to rest against his shoulder. 

Her Master gently laid her back down on the bed, keeping their bodies close together, placing his hands against the headboard for better leverage as he thrust into her. Leliana gripped his back, her fingernails digging into her skin, riding a wave of pure ecstasy. She was obeying Master. Pleasing Master. Fulfilling both her purpose and her desire.

She was lost — in him, to him — and she was sure that she'd never felt better in her entire life.

Eventually, her movements stilled, and she was content to be held against him, his lips brushing over her forehead, and then down to her cheeks. "I would say that worked," he commented.

"Mmm," Leliana said in agreement, her eyes closed.

"One more thing, dear Leliana, and then you may rest," Master said. "You are completely devoted to me now, yes?"

"Of course, Master." She reached up to steal a gentle kiss from his lips.

"But you are otherwise yourself. You will maintain your personality and mannerisms; your likes and dislikes." He put enough force behind his words for her to know it was an order.

Leliana wasn't in any state of mind to question that desire of his. She could only obey. "I am still myself, Master," she said, since that was the answer he seemed to want. She could feel the truth of it. "I am grateful that you did not turn me into a mindless slut."

"Where is the fun in that?" Master laughed and gently pulled himself off of her, sliding down to lay next to her on the bed. "Rest now, Leliana. Later, we will work on having your friends join you as my devoted slaves."

The prospect thrilled her, and she went to sleep with a smile on her face.


	3. Chapter 3

"I _knew_ it," Morrigan said for what seemed like the hundredth time. Mahariel resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she watched Morrigan pacing back and forth in their cell.

Rolen, the smarmy bastard, would probably have insisted it was their room, but Mahariel knew a cell when she saw one. The only windows were small, thin ones just below the ceiling. Everything in the room was soft — plush rugs covering every inch of the floor, cushions to sit on instead of chairs, pallets in one corner instead of actual beds. The bedding was all silk, edged with the same gauzy material as their ridiculous outfits. The walls were covered in tapestries that seemed to be held up by nothing at all.

It was most definitely a gilded cage — and one without anything that could possibly be used as a weapon.

"I knew that the rumor was a waste of our time," Morrigan continued. Her bare feet made absolutely no sound as she paced across the carpets. " 'Twas but a _rumor_ , and we can ill afford to chase those things down when the Blight advances further across Ferelden every day."

"I know—"

" _Then_ there was that ridiculous ambush." Morrigan either didn't notice or didn't care that Mahariel had said something. " _Obviously_ designed to lull us into a false sense of security. Make us _think_ that we had successfully eliminated all of the enemies in the area."

"You're—"

"Foolish, I know," Morrigan continued. "You tell me so all the time."

"No!" Mahariel shouted. Morrigan stopped pacing and turned to look at her. Mahariel made herself take a few deep breaths, despite the hurt on Morrigan's face. "You're _right._ About everything. All of it. If I'd listened to you at any point after we left camp, we wouldn't be in this situation. All right?"

Morrigan's shoulders slumped, and she shook her head. " 'Tis little comfort now," she said with a gusty sigh.

"Yeah." Mahariel dropped herself into the nearest pile of cushions and stared at the ceiling. She blew out a breath, puffing up the stray strands of hair that draped across her forehead. "We have to find a way out of here."

"What about Leliana?" There was actual concern in Morrigan's voice. Despite the situation, it warmed Mahariel to realize that Morrigan cared about Leliana as a friend. Quite the change from how she'd been when they had first met. "Surely we will not just leave her here."

"No. Absolutely not," Mahariel said, sounding a lot more determined than she felt. "If … Rolen is holding her, such that we can't take her with us … then we get clear, get everyone else, and come back for her. With all of us, we can take him out. Especially with Alistair."

"The oaf is good for dealing with mages," Morrigan admitted grudgingly. Mahariel hid another smile. 

"So, we have an unknown number of undead guards to deal with, as well as the mage," Mahariel said. "And your magic…"

"Is completely inaccessible." Morrigan looked like she wanted to spit nails. Again. Well, at least her anger was keeping her from sinking into despondency. 

"Right. Which means our best chance is stealth rather than something straightforward. If one of us gets taken out of the cell, we need to take in as much detail as we can without arousing suspicion."

Morrigan nodded. "But," she said, "that does mean that we will not be able to take the first opportunity to escape."

"Or the second." Mahariel sighed. "Yes. This is a slow and steady plan."

"Which works to his advantage," Morrigan said. "He did seem … rather confident, in his ability to bend our minds to his will."

Mahariel sat up and looked Morrigan in the eyes. "Don't think about it. We'll be able to resist him. We _have_ to."

Morrigan nodded. "Yes. Yes, we must do everything we can to resist."

There was a sound outside of the room, and both of them turned to look at the door. Having just discussed this, Mahariel restrained herself from bolting over the door in an attempt to overpower whatever guards were outside. It would be futile, and she knew it.

Instead, she got as close as she could without making it look like she was going to try to bolt, and watched intently as the door swung open.

Leliana walked in through the door, holding a tray laden down with food. Mahariel breathed a sigh of relief to see her friend, walking under her own power and seeming quite cheerful to boot.

"Are you all right?" she asked, as Leliana put the tray on the floor. The smells wafting from the plates were appetizing. Her stomach growled, reminding her of how long it had been since she last ate. But she restrained herself, needing to _hear_ Leliana respond.

"I am perfectly fine," Leliana replied in her usual cheerful tone. A bit too cheerful, considering their situation. Mahariel narrowed her eyes and took a closer look at Leliana. 

And then wondered how she had avoided seeing it right away.

There was a kind of sheen over Leliana's eyes; a thin, translucent haze of a crystalline light blue, obscuring her eye color without blocking it out entirely. It was decidedly unsettling to look at, but it seemed to have no effect on Leliana whatsoever.

Mahariel shook her head and corrected that observation. Just because she couldn't see the effect, didn't mean that it wasn't there. Rolen had already proven that he had access to magic the likes of which she had never imagined. 

"What has he done to you?" Morrigan demanded, having also noticed the change in Leliana's eyes.

"Oh, Morrigan," Leliana said with a smile. "You make it sound so terrible! I assure you, it is not. It feels wonderful." Her eyes went half-lidded and she gave a happy sigh.

Mahariel felt a knot growing in her stomach — a growing certainty that something very drastic had happened to Leliana in that single night Rolen had spent with her. 

"What. Has. He. Done." Morrigan ground each word out like it was glass in her mouth.

"Master has helped me to see the truth of things," Leliana said, and that knot in Mahariel's stomach turned into a cold, heavy lump. 

Morrigan's mouth snapped shut, her eyes going wide in horror. Mahariel took a couple of steps forward. "What truths, Leliana?"

"That we truly are better off here, in his care, than out there." The sincerity in Leliana's voice only added to Mahariel's feeling of dread. She should have seen this coming. Rolen had _told_ them that this was his intention.

She just hadn't expected that it would happen so quickly.

"That's not true," Mahariel said, putting as much urgency behind the words as she could manage. "It just _isn't._ You have to fight it, Leliana. Fight it so we can get out of here."

"She no longer wants to fight it," Rolen's voice said from outside the room. Mahariel stiffened. "It feels too good to fight, doesn't it, Leliana?"

"Yes, Master," Leliana responded, turning towards the sound of his voice, her smile even brighter than before. 

"Would you like to show your friends how good I make you feel?"

Oh, _that_ wasn't ominous in the least. "I believe you," Mahariel said, also turning towards where she guessed Rolen was standing outside, raising her voice to ensure that he heard her. "There's no need for a demonstration."

"I must beg to differ, dearest Viera," Rolen said. "I can guess that you are still skeptical, still searching for a way to get out. You are smart, and clever, and I expected nothing less of you. But you _must_ see that it is hopeless. Inevitable that you will share Leliana's fate. And the best way for you to realize that … is to view a demonstration of my power.

" _Ha'mi'lin. Juveran na su tarasyl._ "

Leliana fell to her knees, overcome by whatever it was that those words had triggered in her. Her head fell backwards, her eyes closed, as her hands began to roam freely over her body. "Master," she moaned, that single word somehow seeming to carry a wealth of desire with it.

Mahariel mentally translated the words. _Relax. I will take you to the sky._ It wasn't a phrase she had heard before, but the context was unmistakable. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the sight of her dear friend lost in overwhelming arousal. 

"Master," Leliana said again. "I'm so horny. I need you, Master. I need to feel you inside me."

"Of that I have no doubt," Rolen said. "I am terribly sorry for the inconvenience, but I simply can't come into that room to help you out. Why don't you pleasure yourself while you recite your mantras for me?"

Mahariel watched in horror as Leliana's hand slid downwards, underneath the skirt that somehow seemed to provide even _less_ coverage than it had a moment ago. She knew that she should look away, that this was exactly what Rolen wanted her to do — watch the way that Leliana's fingers slid inside her entrance, the way her body shuddered around her hand. Mahariel shifted her gaze up to Leliana's face, and that wasn't any better. The expression there was one of complete rapture. Her lips parted, releasing a sigh.

And then she began to speak.

"You are my Master. I will obey. I am your slave. My only purpose is to serve you. My only desire, to please you."

The words sent a shudder through Mahariel's body. They were ones of complete and total surrender. Leliana was pledging her mind and body both to Rolen through these actions. It was horrifying, and at the same time, utterly fascinating.

Mahariel had always found Leliana attractive. But attraction alone wasn't enough to convince her to make a move. Before being recruited into the Wardens, she'd lost Tamlen, her best friend. And the mission they were on was a hazardous one. That was about the only thing that she and Rolen agreed on. Mahariel hadn't thought that she could stand to lose anyone else that was dear to her, and made the decision to keep her distance from all of her companions. She was their leader, but not truly one of them. She couldn't be.

That resolve, which had seemed iron-clad a moment ago, was cracking in the face of Leliana, more lovely than Mahariel had ever seen her before — her face flushed, strands of hair matting from the sweat on her forehead, her breasts bouncing up and down as her movements became faster. Faster.

"You are my Master. I — I will obey. I am, am, am your slave." Mahariel thought that it was incredibly hot how Leliana was tripping over her words, caught up in the throes of her desire. "My only purpose — my — purpose —"

Mahariel was moving before she realized she had made a decision. Her mouth closed over Leliana's, stopping her mid-mantra, tongue sliding into Leliana's mouth. Leliana's muffled exclamation of surprise turned into an extremely gratified moan. The pair of them fell backwards onto the nearby cushions, their mouths still pressed together, and Mahariel forgot about everything else.

* * *

Morrigan couldn't believe her eyes. One minute, Leliana was obeying that man's _ridiculous_ commands, and the next, Mahariel had her pinned on the floor, her hand already darting in to brush Leliana's aside. Frankly, Morrigan didn't see how _choosing_ to participate was a better outcome than being forced, even if said forced participation was reduced to pure voyeurism—

Strong hands grabbed her arms and hauled her away. She only had time to get out an _embarrassing_ squeak before the door to their cell closed, and her guards hustled her along a path, through an open courtyard. Remembering their earlier discussion, Morrigan looked around, seeing if there were any other guards (it was easier to think of them as guards than to acknowledge that they were _undead_ ), and if there were any paths out that they might take advantage of in their flight.

She was steered back inside and through a twisting maze of corridors before she had made a full count. Likely a deliberate move on Rolen's part, she admitted grudgingly. It would not do to underestimate his intelligence. 

Morrigan kept that in mind when her guards brought her into the throne room that Rolen had greeted them in, the previous day. He was sitting on the throne, eyes intent on her. She resisted the urge to shudder. She did not like being the one on the receiving end of such scrutiny.

The invisible bonds around her wrists and ankles had reappeared. She was stuck kneeling in front of him. An image of Leliana, kneeling in their cell, flashed into her mind. Morrigan banished it ruthlessly. She would _not_ end up like that.

"I apologize for the rather abrupt change of scenery, but it seemed best to give Leliana and Viera some time alone." Rolen's smile turned into a leer. "I know from experience how … enthusiastic … dear Leliana can be."

"Well, I do thank you for that," Morrigan commented, making only a token effort to keep the acid out of her voice. "I did not care to watch them. They are my friends. Such things ought to be private."

Rolen's smile turned thoughtful. Morrigan wondered what part of that he found most interesting, but kept her face carefully neutral. She did not want to give him anything more than she already had.

"I'm glad to see you finding the bright spots in your situation," Rolen said. "You and Viera seem to be misunderstanding my intentions, and the quality of your future here. I would have thought that seeing Leliana's joy would help to convince you that I truly do want the best for the three of you."

"It does _not_ convince me of that," Morrigan shot back. "What you call Leliana's joy, I call a perversion of her mind and her free will."

Rolen sighed. "It pains me that you persist in this severe misunderstanding of things."

"And I will continue to 'persist', as you so put it, until we are freed from this place."

"I suppose I must admire that stubbornness of yours," Rolen said. "It is a trait that we share, you and I." He reached under his shirt. "It means that mere words will not be enough to convince you."

He drew out a pendant on a long chain and held it in front of him. A flick of his wrist sent the pendant — a blue stone in a simple setting — floating through the air towards Morrigan, stopping a few inches from her face. At the same time, she felt an invisible pressure settle around her head, keeping her gaze firmly locked on the stone. 

"So this is supposed to change my mind? A shiny bauble?" Morrigan knew there was more to it than that. Rolen was a mage, and by all accounts a powerful one. "At least, 'tis pleasing to look at."

"I'm glad you think so, because you'll be doing that for the foreseeable future," Rolen replied. The stone began to glow brightly from within. The exact hue of that light seemed familiar, like she'd seen it recently.

Oh. _The sheen that had overlaid Leliana's eyes._ Morrigan suppressed the urge to shudder. She couldn't let him know that any of this was getting to her.

"You've been fighting for so long, Morrigan," Rolen said, his voice turning soft, coaxing. "Fighting against everything and everyone. Here, I am offering you a chance to rest. To let go of all your cares."

"Letting go of them does not make them disappear from the world entirely," Morrigan spat back at him. "The Blight advances. Without us, _the darkspawn will win_."

"So much easier just to look into the light and let it relax you." Rolen gave no sign that he had heard her words. "So easy to let your gaze fall upon the stone, noticing the subtle patterns in its surface and how the light brings them out."

Morrigan ground her teeth. Clearly, he intended to keep droning at her until his magical light stole her will. Well. She was no weakling, not, apparently, like Leliana. It genuinely pained her to think that the Orlesian had fallen so easily, and not just because it boded ill for herself and Mahariel. Leliana was full of conviction and bravery. Morrigan would never have guessed that she would be so easily overcome by tricks of the light.

Of course, there _was_ magic behind that light. She could feel it trying to work its way inside her, looking for any opening, no matter how small.

She would. Not. _Let_. It in.

"Feel the warmth of it moving through you. Feel your body start to relax. Your shoulders are relaxed. Your neck is relaxed. The light is so warm, so comforting."

"I would be a lot more relaxed without these bonds upon my limbs," Morrigan said.

Rolen shook his head. "Not while you still fight me."

Oh, well. She hadn't really expected that he would go for it.

"It will feel so good when you stop fighting, Morrigan," Rolen continued, his voice dropping even further. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "It feels good to let the light wash over you, let it fill your mind. A feeling of pure bliss, of total relaxation. I know that sounds nice to you, Morrigan. I know that a part of you is starting to want it."

Morrigan hardened her expression. It was true that there was a part that was curious, but that curiosity was easily overcome by common sense. "The only thing that I want is for you to release all three of us."

"One might argue that Leliana is released—" Rolen began.

"She is held even tighter than before," Morrigan spat back at him. "Lie to yourself all you wish, but I will not sit here and simply let such absurd statements pass unchallenged. Leliana is my friend. What you have done disgusts _me._ What you are attempting to do to me disgusts me." Her eyes were daggers of the finest, sharpest steel, boring holes into his skull. 

Rolen met her stare with one of his own, but Morrigan fancied that she was managing to get the better of him. She knew that the blue stone was supposed to be making her pliant, receptive to his words. 

She was also quite certain that it wasn't working as intended.

Rolen was the first to turn his gaze away. She saw the anger and the frustration in his face, and the moment when that fury turned to cold calculation.

He waved a hand almost negligently, and she felt her bonds dissolve as his undead servants hauled her to her feet and out of the throne room.


End file.
